


To Catch a Fox

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Super Junior M
Genre: Animal Play, Community: kink_bingo, Foxes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:10:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Siwon thinks Zhou Mi looks like a fox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Catch a Fox

Zhou Mi is sitting in bed, trying to write lyrics that sound sincere rather than cheesy, when Siwon wanders in without knocking. He’s reading a book, or at least he’s frowning at it, and he brings it over to Zhou Mi, tapping the page. “This,” he says in Mandarin, “tell me what this word is. How to say.”

Zhou Mi adjusts his glasses, glances at the page—a book of fairy tales—and duly translates. Siwon repeats the word in Mandarin a few times and flops across the bottom of the bed. He lays the book flat between his elbows and continues reading.

Zhou Mi blinks. So much for his quiet time. Not that Siwon is making a noise or anything, no, he’s just sprawled out like a big cat, taking up half the bed, and he’s just reading, utterly absorbed in the book, his lower lip jutting out as he concentrates on the Chinese characters. Zhou Mi should be able to ignore him, but he can’t, because Siwon is a distraction even when he’s silent.

Besides, Zhou Mi likes to be either completely alone when he composes or he needs to be surrounded by everyone, all of them chattering and bickering and eating and playing games or dancing or whatever. The two extremes are the most conducive to writing lyrics, he’s found, and Siwon reading a Chinese book on the end of his bed is not conducive to anything.

After five minutes of doodling pyramids and cylinders across his notepad, Zhou Mi gives up and tucks the pencil behind one ear. “Fairy tales,” he says in Mandarin, pointing to the book.

“Huh?” Siwon tears his attention away from his reading. He looks blank for a moment. “Ah. Yes. Fairy tales.” He smiles.

Zhou Mi ignores the flip of lust in his belly. “Aren’t you a bit too old for fairy tales?”

Siwon does a slow roll onto his side to face Zhou Mi. “You’re never too old for fairy tales.”

The shift in position makes Siwon’s t-shirt ride up, revealing a little more than a sliver of muscled flesh. Zhou Mi feels the fiery burn of a blush and forces himself to look at something less dangerous. The book. Yes. That’s safe. He gestures towards it. “Fairy tales are for children.”

“You really think so?” Siwon frowns again, thoughtful. “I don’t agree. They’re about society. How to act, how to behave. Be kind to your parents, be a good wife, be an honest man, say thank you to deities.” He pauses, slides his gaze back to the book. “Some people say the Bible is all fairy tales.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Zhou Mi is not in the mood for a theological discussion, nor even a sociological one, and he takes the easy way out before the conversation becomes awkward. “Okay, I’m sorry. Fairy tales are not childish.” Siwon still looks annoyed, so Zhou Mi adds by way of placating him, “Which is your favourite story?”

Siwon’s mood immediately brightens. He flips back through the book and pushes it across the bed. “This one. The girl who laughs all the time.”

Zhou Mi peers at the page, at the accompanying line drawing of a pretty girl in a tree accepting a branch of plum blossom from a dazed-looking man. “Oh, the story of Ying Ning. Well. That’s definitely not childish.” Not with a scene where a man has sex with a rotten tree stump, deluded into believing he’s embracing the beautiful fox fairy. He clears his throat. “You like foxes?”

“Chinese foxes.” Siwon drags the book back and studies the page. “Korean foxes are not so nice. They eat...” He pauses, searching for the right word, and gestures vaguely to the middle of his body. “They eat men’s...”

“Hearts?” Zhou Mi guesses, though it can’t be that, because ‘heart’ is a word they all know from the songs. He tries to think of other organs, but it’s hard to think straight when Siwon pulls up his t-shirt and points to the top right of his abdomen. Zhou Mi swallows. “Liver. They eat men’s livers?”

Siwon nods, his expression solemn. His t-shirt is still twisted halfway up his body. “Livers, yes. Because of the energy, you know? A man’s energy is focused in here,” he places a hand just below his chest, “and foxes desire it. They want it so they can become human.” The seriousness drops away and he laughs. “Korean foxes are very evil. But Chinese foxes, not so much.”

“Some of them are,” Zhou Mi says, hoping he doesn’t sound too pedantic. “Lady Daji, for example. People said she was a fox. She was the concubine of King Zhou.”

“Zhou!” Siwon laughs again.

“No, no. Not like me. Different sound. And I don’t have concubines.” Zhou Mi blushes as soon as the words leave his mouth, his mind clicking unwanted to the fantasy of Siwon as his concubine, adoring and willing and naked and— “And,” Zhou Mi continues, voice a little higher than normal, “Lady Daji was very evil. She liked torturing people. Cutting open pregnant women when they were alive to see the baby growing. Forcing people to run on top of burning cauldrons until they fell into the fire. Ripping out hearts to see how they worked.”

He’s not sure how much of this Siwon can understand, but Siwon is wrinkling his nose in vague disgust so presumably he gets the gist of it. Zhou Mi adds, “People also said Yang Gufei was a fox. And Empress Wu. Any woman with power, really.”

“You don’t have stories about male foxes?” Siwon looks interested, his eyes wide. He props his head on his hand and gazes at Zhou Mi, the very image of an attentive student.

“Well... yes. A few.” Zhou Mi can only think of one, the fox boy from another of Pu Songling’s tales. He hesitates, embarrassed about describing the story, but Siwon is looking at him so hopefully and Zhou Mi can’t bear the thought of disappointing him. “One is, um, it’s called _Cut Sleeve_.”

Siwon’s eyes flash. “Ah.”

Zhou Mi relates what he can remember of the story, about a scholar who falls in love with a beautiful young fox boy. The scholar becomes obsessed, makes love to the fox so often that, despite repeated warnings, he dies. There’s another part to the story, something about reanimating a suicide and marrying a fox woman, but Zhou Mi can’t recall that part of the tale. He muddles through, his words trailing away when he realises Siwon is staring at him with intent.

“Zhou Mi,” Siwon says, and his voice is dark and soft.

“Yes?” Zhou Mi knows he sounds flustered.

“You look like a fox.” Abandoning his book, Siwon lifts himself onto his hands and knees, a gleam in his eyes and a smile curving his lips.

“I... do?” Startled, Zhou Mi looks towards the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. He knows he can’t see himself from here and so touches his hair, his face, even more flustered. “I—I suppose I do. I never—”

“Never thought about it?” Siwon prowls closer. “You even have red hair now. Like a fox.”

Zhou Mi draws in a breath. “That has nothing to do with anything!”

Siwon kneels in front of him, gaze bright and curious. He takes the pencil, tosses it to the floor. The notepad follows. Zhou Mi wants to protest, but doesn’t dare.

“Korean foxes show their true nature all of a sudden.” Siwon frowns, shakes his head at the words he used, tries again: “When they can’t help it.”

“Involuntarily,” Zhou Mi whispers.

“Yes. When they’re surprised. Distracted.” Siwon reaches out and takes off Zhou Mi’s black-rimmed glasses. He folds them, sets them on the bedside table; turns back and smiles. He touches a fingertip to Zhou Mi’s nose, drops down to stroke over his lips, caresses up the side of his jaw. “You’re sharp like a fox.”

Zhou Mi sits perfectly still, heart thumping and arousal squirming inside him.

Siwon brushes at the fall of dark russet hair and runs a finger around the outside of Zhou Mi’s ear. “Not a fox ear,” Siwon says, still smiling. He lifts both hands, draws the fingers and thumbs together as if he’s shaping pointed ears. “Fox ears. This I can’t imagine.”

His hands drop, and now Siwon unbuttons Zhou Mi’s pyjama shirt. It’s emerald green satin with black piping and shiny buttons. It was horrendously expensive and not the kind of thing one should actually wear to bed, but neither should it be yanked off and thrown onto the floor. Then Siwon tugs at the pyjama trousers, pushes them past Zhou Mi’s hips and keeps pushing, crumpling the fabric, until Zhou Mi capitulates and rolls back, allowing Siwon to drag the trousers off him. They end up on the floor alongside the shirt and the notepad and the pencil.

Siwon draws him closer, hands on Zhou Mi’s waist, settles him so he’s sitting between Siwon’s splayed thighs, Zhou Mi’s legs hooked almost around Siwon’s waist. The position forces Zhou Mi to sit up very straight. He keeps a slight distance between them. Not much of one, but he needs to maintain it so he can tell himself he’s still in control.

The illusion crumbles when Siwon slides his hands up from Zhou Mi’s hips, over his ribs, across his chest, up to his shoulders. Siwon pauses, smiling. Then he moves in even closer, the soft-worn fabric of his t-shirt warm and ticklish against Zhou Mi’s bare skin, and Siwon strokes down Zhou Mi’s spine, exhaling a tiny sigh into his non-fox-ear, and then—Zhou Mi can feel this, really feel it—Siwon describes a shape in the air.

“Your tail,” Siwon whispers. “I’m touching your tail. Can you feel it? Feel my hands on you?”

Zhou Mi concentrates, and he can see it now, steps out of himself to picture them together on the bed, and he sees himself with a tail, the long sweep of a fox’s brush, sees Siwon’s hands stroking its length. “Yes,” he moans. “I feel it.”

“Mm. It goes all the way from here,” Siwon rubs at Zhou Mi’s coccyx, “up to here...” he lifts both hands, half closing his eyes and smiling as if he’s touching something soft and furry, “and it feels so good, Mimi. Do you like me stroking your tail?”

The only reply Zhou Mi can make is a gasp. He arches forward into Siwon’s body, pushes his arse back as if he really has a tail, as if he can flick it back and forth. He rubs against Siwon, the cotton t-shirt dragging at his sensitised nipples. Zhou Mi bites down on a whimper. This is absurd. It shouldn’t be sexy. But it is. It’s making him hard, so hard, and he can’t do anything about it.

“Oh,” Siwon breathes in his ear, and the sound makes Zhou Mi shiver, “oh Mimi, you have the most beautiful tail. The fur is soft. So soft. And red. As red as your hair.”

A mewl escapes Zhou Mi’s parted lips. He wonders dizzily if he’s really turning into a fox, if Siwon has the power to dig out that kind of hidden truth. _Maybe_ , Zhou Mi thinks, dazed, _maybe I’ve always been a fox and never even knew it. Maybe—maybe..._

Siwon continues to stroke Zhou Mi’s tail, pours praise into his ear, murmurs lustful admiration against his neck, and says in a growly whisper, “Would you eat me? Would you take my heart, Mimi, take my energy?”

Glorious, brutal images flash through Zhou Mi’s mind. He closes his eyes tight, sees moonlight and naked flesh and blood and claws. He smells the sharp, hot stink of fox in its den of crumbling black earth and aches with the urge to rut. He shudders through his mouth, pants for breath. He opens his eyes wide. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I couldn’t.”

“Not even a taste?” Siwon’s mouth is too close. “C’mon, fox. Take a bite.”

Zhou Mi can’t resist. He puts his hands to Siwon’s face and kisses him, sways in close, catches at Siwon’s top lip with his teeth. Siwon flicks out his tongue, forces the embrace, going in deep. Zhou Mi whimpers. He slides a hand around to grip Siwon’s hair, holds him into the kiss, sucks on Siwon’s tongue, steals his air.

Siwon breaks away, breath sharp and short. “Fox, fox,” he sings softly, switching between Mandarin and Korean. “Bite me, taste me, cover me in your scent...”

Zhou Mi turns his head, follows Siwon’s mouth, wanting more. He bites at Siwon’s lips, licks across his face, nips at his jaw. Siwon chuckles, places one warm hand flat over the base of Zhou Mi’s imaginary tail and curls the other around Zhou Mi’s cock.

The scent of hunger and musk bleeds between them. Zhou Mi makes a soft, urgent sound and jerks up. Panicked frustration roars through him. The bed squeaks. He fights the imposed rhythm. He’s in the wrong position for this, can’t thrust the way he needs to. He’s helpless in Siwon’s hands and he hates it, hates him. Zhou Mi snaps at Siwon, fastens his teeth in Siwon’s neck.

In retaliation Siwon takes a mouthful of Zhou Mi’s red hair, pulls at it until he yelps. “Bitch,” Siwon says.

“Fox,” Zhou Mi retorts, breathless.

“Mm, foxy,” Siwon hums, tilts his head, pinning Zhou Mi with his bright-eyed gaze. His hand grips harder, moves faster, and Zhou Mi groans at the spurt of pre-come slicking the way. “Yes, yes,” Siwon murmurs, coaxing him, “just like that.” He flexes his fingers, hand undulating up and down Zhou Mi’s cock, and Zhou Mi feels the layering of orgasm beginning to build.

“Show me your magic, fox.” Siwon’s voice is dark and harsh and sinful, hitting just the right pitch to force a shiver down Zhou Mi’s spine. “My beautiful fox. Come for me. Come for me now.” Siwon punctuates the demand by scratching him, a long raw stripe up his back.

Zhou Mi screams, high and breathy and broken, and he comes hard, comes apart, shuddering in Siwon’s arms, splashing heat and fox-scent over him.

Siwon retreats to the foot of the bed. Lasciviously, luxuriously, he licks at his hand, cleaning away the gleams of semen. His eyes glitter and he grins as he bounces to his feet, leaving Zhou Mi bedraggled and storm-tossed and depleted of energy.

“Ah, Mimi,” Siwon says, voice playful. “Next time, just tasting you won’t be enough. Next time, maybe I’ll eat your liver.”

He picks up his book and whisks out of the room, long black tail flicking as he goes.


End file.
